The Duke's Last Hunt (9 page)

9

W
hen Eliza awoke the next morning, the sunlight was already peeking in through a gap in the curtains. Ollerton entered and opened the curtains all the way, letting in the whole flood of sunshine.

“Is Mother dressed already?” asked Eliza, covering her eyes.

“Oh no, miss,” replied the lady’s maid. “She went to bed last night with a well-seasoned sore throat, and this morning ’tis even worse, and with a cough too. I imagine she’ll stay in her chambers all day, poor thing.”

“Oh dear,” said Eliza, her concern for her mother intermingling with her concern for her own situation. Being chaperoned by her parents in a strange house was bad enough, but being alone in a strange house was worse. “Is father ill as well?”

“Not that I know of, miss. He told your mother he was taking his breakfast with Mr. Curtis.”

“I see.” Eliza slipped out of bed and submitted herself to Ollerton’s ministrations. She had no idea what the day would bring, but it was comforting to be dressed in one of her favorite gowns—a sprigged muslin with a green ribbon beneath the bust.

“Ollerton,” she said, a thought coming to her. “Do you mingle much with the rest of the staff here?”

“I take my dinner with the duke’s valet and the ladies’ maids,” said Ollerton. Her pursed lips voiced the question: “Why?”

“I assume they talk. People always do. Talk about other people, I mean. Have you…have you heard anything about Henry Rowland, the duke’s brother?”

“What sort of things?”

“I…don’t know exactly,” said Eliza, unwilling to confide in Ollerton about the incident with the maid in the corridor. “Anything untoward, I suppose?”

“I can’t say as I have,” said Ollerton, “but I shall keep my ear to the ground.” She gave her mistress’ daughter a sharp look, but Eliza refrained from saying anymore on the subject.

“And what activities are planned for today, miss?” the maid asked, pulling the laces tight on the back of the bodice.

“I don’t really know,” replied Eliza slowly. “I suppose the duke will orchestrate some sort of amusement.”

Ollerton grunted, her mouth holding several pins to use in pinning up Eliza’s auburn hair. Within moments, a simple bun adorned the back of her head. “Well now, you look pretty as a picture, Miss Malcolm.”

“Thank you, Ollerton,” said Eliza. She looked into the mirror and put a hand up to touch her hair. It was vain to think too much of oneself, but she did hope that the woman staring back at her had the potential to be called a beauty. She flushed a little. Perhaps the Rowland brothers, or at least one of them, would think so as well.

The maid bobbed a curtsey and left the room. Eliza took a deep breath. She opened the bedroom door and headed down the corridor towards the stairs.

“There you are, Eliza!” called Adele. Mr. Blount and Lord Henry looked up from their eggs and bacon as Eliza entered the breakfast room. “Sit down,” Adele said imperiously, “and submit your suggestions for what we shall do today.”

“I thought you’d arranged for some friends to pay a visit?” said Mr. Blount. His chair was quite close to Adele’s, and Eliza almost suspected that their feet were touching beneath the table.

“That’s tonight, you silly gudgeon,” replied Adele, swatting his arm playfully. “We have the whole day in front of us. We must create a schedule!” Adele looked to Eliza for affirmation, but Eliza only gave her new friend a tentative smile.

She had been hoping that Rufus would be here to take control of events and steer her in the right direction. She saw Lord Henry’s eyes upon her. He excused himself from the table and stepped over to the sideboard. He must be hungry this morning, thought Eliza, for he was filling a second plate.

“Perhaps,” ventured Eliza, “the duke will have already created a schedule.”

“Rufus!” Adele snorted in a most unladylike manner. She tossed a few unpinned tresses over her shoulder. “Don’t be ridiculous. I daresay he won’t awaken for another hour or more, and I’m sure he’s hardly gone to the trouble to arrange
activities
.”

“Well, that shall be
my
privilege then,” said Lord Henry. He came back from the sideboard and set down the plate he had filled, heaped high with eggs, ham, fruit, and muffins, directly in front of Eliza.

Eliza colored. “Thank you.” She picked up a muffin and bit into it.

“Now then,” said Lord Henry, resuming his seat at the table, “I’ve a few letters and a parcel to post, so for the first order of the day, we shall drive into the village and show Miss Malcolm the local splendors. I warn you, however,” he said, fixing his face on Eliza with mock gravity, “you must not set your expectations too high. There is little in the way of shopping.”

“Oh, good heavens, no!” said Adele. “One cannot even buy a proper bonnet there.”

Eliza dabbed at her mouth with a napkin. The eggs were quite delicious. “I thank you for the warning, Adele. I shall endeavor to buy no bonnets on the excursion.”

“Very good,” replied Lord Henry. “From the village, we will set out west toward the lake. The air is cooler there on account of the water. I shall instruct Mrs. Forsythe to pack us a substantial hamper, and we shall picnic there on the shore.”

“Upon my word, Henry,” said Adele. “You would make an admirable tour guide or a butler.”

“Or a steward even, perhaps,” said Lord Henry dryly.

“Of course…well, yes…oh bother.”

Eliza noticed that the usually irrepressible Adele had twisted her pretty face into a frown. Mr. Blount was looking uncomfortable as well.

Lord Henry’s face, however, had grown a wry grin, and he did not seem in the least put out. “Well, Miss Malcolm, do you approve of our plan?”

“Oh, yes,” said Eliza, taken aback by the direct question. Doubts assailed her a moment later. She laid down her fork and knife. What business did she have picnicking with Lord Henry when her sole business here was to explore the possibility of marrying his brother? She stared at the floor. “But perhaps we should see if your brother would like to join us?”

“I see
one
kind soul has spared a thought for me!”

“Speak of the devil,” murmured Lord Henry as the duke strode into the room with Walter Turold on his heels.

Eliza flushed as Rufus approached the table, took her hand in his, and kissed it. “Good morning, your grace,” she said.

“Good morning,” the duke replied. He was wearing buckskins again and riding boots—it seemed to be his outfit of choice. His red hair was combed back carelessly and his freckled face lit up with enthusiasm. “Walter and I were just on our way out for a ride. Would you care to join us, Miss Malcolm?”

“Oh, I….” Eliza swallowed. She was already dreading the thought of riding out with the hunt on Wednesday, and was she now to be subjected to mounting a horse even sooner?

“Lud, no, Rufus!” said Adele peevishly. “Eliza is to picnic with us by the lake! She doesn’t wish to be jolted up and down all over the countryside on this hot day.”

Eliza wondered if she would ever dare to contradict the duke the way his sister had.

“I’m sure Miss Malcolm can decide for herself,” said Rufus, shooting a quelling look at his sister.

Eliza’s heart beat a little faster. She would never be able to stand that look being directed at
her
. “I think,” she said slowly, “that it would be better for me to rest today. My mother is taken ill, and I feel a bit of the headache myself. Perhaps if I keep to my room, I shall be well enough to join you all for dinner tonight.”

She put down her napkin, and Rufus, seeing that she wished to excuse herself, pulled out her chair. She gave a quick bow to them all and then slipped out the door of the breakfast room.

* * *

Henry sighed. It had been
a singularly tedious day. He had posted his letters and his parcel, visited Ned at the Blue Boar, and played the unwelcome third at the lake with his sister and her suitor. When he returned to Harrowhaven in the afternoon, he discovered that Miss Malcolm, true to her word, was still keeping to her room.

Allowing himself to be ruled by impulse, he attempted to dispel his ennui by knocking on her door. Alas, her lady’s maid had answered it, a dragon of a creature determined to open the door no more than six inches wide while she spoke to him.

“How can I help you, my lord?” Her words said one thing, but her tone indicated quite the opposite intent.

“So kind of you to ask.” Henry had encountered this type before and knew how to engage in battle. “I came to inquire how Miss Malcolm was feeling this afternoon? Is there anything she needs that I could have the housekeeper send up for her?”

“No, thank you, your lordship. Very good of you.”

Henry smiled. The woman’s face had a distinctively suspicious cast to it—he supposed that “good” was the antithesis of what she considered him. He wondered if Eliza had confided in her maid about the incident with Constance yesterday morning….

“I have a book here that perhaps Miss Malcolm would like to borrow—something to pass the time.”

The maid took the book and held it gingerly. Henry hoped that she would not leaf through it. It was a novel, although the plain cover concealed that fact admirably, an older book that he had enjoyed many years ago. The title was
Pamela or Virtue Rewarded,
and he hoped that the second of those names would pass muster with the sergeant in charge of this camp.

“I look forward to seeing your mistress at dinner.”

There was no response to that, so Henry retreated and allowed the maid to close the door. He snapped his fingers in frustration as he walked down the corridor. If only she had opened the door a little wider and let him catch a glimpse of the room’s occupant. At breakfast Miss Malcolm’s hair had been pulled up into a bun, with a few pieces falling down around her face. It was probably all unpinned now. He wondered if she really did have a headache—brought on by having to choose between Rufus’ plan and his own.

The rest of the afternoon Henry whiled away playing billiards with his half-brother Robert and Sir Arthur. “So, Robert, I hear you’re in deep waters,” he said in an undertone while Sir Arthur was distracted with the decanter of brandy.

“Who says so? Nonsense,” replied Robert. He squinted at the table and knocked a billiard ball into a hole with more force than he had hitherto exerted.

“Mother says so. Rufus has your note? And it expires soon?”

Robert waved a hand dismissively. “He’ll put a stay on the repayment—he has before. And with any luck, I’ll get him to invest some more in this engine I’ve told you about—I’ve got a sure thing, this time!” He laid down his billiards stick and brushed an invisible speck off his lace cuffs.

Henry shrugged. “Suit yourself, Robert. But be advised that Rufus is by no means a benevolent philanthropist.”

“I’m sorry, Henry,” said Robert, reading more into the comment than Henry had intended. “I cannot think of a more unfair event than two inheritances and three sons. Your father’s plan to provide for you made a mull of everything, and for that we must all be disappointed.”

“Never mind that,” said Henry, in no way desirous or deserving of his half-brother’s pity.

“Another game?” said Sir Arthur, sloshing his drink down onto a table in the corner and seizing upon an unclaimed billiards stick.

“Of course,” said Robert.

“Not I,” said Henry. “I want to see if my valet has arrived with my clothes—perhaps I will have something presentable to wear for dinner tonight.”

Robert and Sir Arthur waved Henry good-bye as they set up the billiard balls. Henry went down the hallway and started up the stairs. He had just reached the landing by his brother Rufus’ portrait, when he heard Rufus himself in the entryway below. Rufus and Walter had been gone all day, either setting up the details of the upcoming hunt or shooting some fowl themselves.

“Plenty of time to dress for dinner,” Henry heard Rufus remark. “I’ll have a bath first, I think.”

“Good plan,” said Walter, giving a loud sniff and bursting into good-natured laughter. “Could you give my regrets to your mother? I’ll be dining elsewhere tonight.”

“Oh?” said Rufus. Henry could not see the two men speaking, but Rufus’ voice had an edge to it. “With whom?”

“Some friends from the village,” replied Walter vaguely.

“You mean Reverend Ansel?”

“Why, yes, if you must know.”

“Why so secretive about it?”

“I simply thought it would be of no concern to you.”

“But of course it is a concern to me. That man’s lobbying to allow public access to the strip of forest alongside the church. I won’t have a bunch of farmers and village brats frightening off the game. What motive does he have for inviting you to dinner?”

“Friendship, I’m sure. I grew up around here, the same as you did, Rufus. You would not begrudge me a simple invitation to dine with the Reverend and his family?”

Henry could hear Rufus’ foot tapping impatiently. “Hmm…well, all right. But I warn you, I shan’t be swayed, no matter how much he tries to curry favor with you.”

“Of course not,” said Walter placatingly. “Now go, take your bath, your grace. You stink worse than one of those farmers you so desperately want out of your woods.”

They had walked through the saloon now and were approaching the stairs. Henry took a deep breath, threw back his shoulders, and stood out of their way on the landing. Rufus walked past him without a word, but Walter paused, somehow aware that he had been eavesdropping. “How about it, Henry? Join me for dinner at the Reverend’s?”
“No,” said Henry evenly, “but you may give him my kind regards. And his family as well.”

Walter shook his head slowly as if he could not believe the audacity of that remark. Then looking away, he spat vehemently on the flowered carpet covering the stairs.

* * *

Henry was delighted to discover
that his valet had, in fact, expedited his pace to arrive at Harrowhaven with his luggage in time for dinner.

“You
ought
to have brought me along in the first place, my lord,” said Biggs reproachfully. His bald head glowed with the exertion of hanging all of his master’s coats in the wardrobe in this warm room.